Sleep Well, Draco
by Life of Death
Summary: "Lucius Malfoy lost his battle with sickness, and Narcissa hers with fate. Their son no longer cared." When Hermione Granger visits Draco Malfoy on his last day alive, she mourns with him the loss of a mother.


**Disclaimer:** _A lot of things in this story aren't mine (sadly), and I don't just mean the Harry Potter characters (if you know, you'll know ;))_

_Please enjoy_

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_**Sleep Well, Draco**_

Death eaters were cursed.

All of them.

Every single one.

To die eight years after the demise of Lord Voldemort.

Some went before their time.

They jumped off buildings, sent killing curses into their own chests.

They fell victim to diseases, and did not bother to cure themselves of it.

They were ambushed, dead before they even had the time to see the face of their killer.

Some remained.

They hid. Planned and schemed in darker alcoves of the world.

They talked. Of how to rid themselves of the curse, of how to evade the Ministry, of how to escape the shame of defeat and disgust of the wizarding community.

They waited. In the small, damp cells of Azkaban, the bone-chilling presence of dementors their only company.

Lucius Malfoy lost his battle with sickness, and Narcissa hers with fate.

Their son no longer cared.

**oO0Oo**

_May 1st, 2006_

Hermione Granger, employee of the Ministry of Magic, brightest witch of her generation, and a lovely young woman, walks the cold, haunted halls of Azkaban.

She had heard of Narcissa Malfoy's death at the hands of a rogue witch just a week prior, and against her better judgement in a very long time, she is going to visit an old schoolmate.

Of course, she still hates him, and still thinks him a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach-

At least, she hopes she does. After all, time can do much for forgiveness.

She tells herself that is the only reason.

She nods her thanks to the guard that leads her to his cell, and politely dismisses the ones stationed, statue-like, in front of the iron gate.

Then the voice sounds, still cold as the icicles hanging about her doorway, sharp as the unforgiving teeth of a predator.

Just a little more broken.

"Hermione Granger. After all this time now you come to visit me. Why?" She looks up, and he is so close. He has leaned in, his face mere centimeters from the bars and inches from her own. His eyes are still storm cloud grey, just the way she remembers as a girl. Cold and calculating.

"Have you come to gloat? To mock?"

But the arrogance is no longer there, neither is the belittling look she had so often been graced with, always tinged with that small sparkling of regret.

It had been so small, enough for her to pretend it wasn't there.

So she did.

It has been amplified now, and he should have known that even a spell can not hide it.

"Malfoy enough, no more illusions."

His brows sweep up in a near questioning manner, and for a moment it seems as if he is going to deny it.

He doesn't, and when he lowers his head in resignation, the illusion spell falls away.

He sits with his back to her, slim frame pressed against the cold metal.

His hair is longer, shaggier, and tousled, almost as if he had been pulling at it.

"Now you see me, Granger."

His voice rings of exhaustion, of sadness and loss, and it shouldn't have, but it hurt, like a serpent has wrapped around her heart and squeezed.

She has not forgotten, and neither has he.

She doesn't say anything, just settles on the ground behind him, pressed against the cruel bars.

She can feel him, just a bit, and Merlin is he cold.

"Did she suffer?" He had been crying, so she reaches behind her, fingers seeking company. He gives it to her, cold as snow.

"No." She brushes a hand across her cheeks to rid of her tears. "It was fast, she didn't see it coming."

She hears a muffled sob behind her, and grips his hand a little harder.

It trembles. Because the dam has finally been broken.

They do not speak. They sit, he cries, and she listens.

The sun travels across the darkening sky, but they do not see it, because in Azkaban, the sun does not rise, nor does it fall.

He knows it's almost time. They both do.

Their hands squeeze a little harder, keep each other a little closer, a bit tighter.

She does not know why she cries for him.

The clock strikes midnight.

**oO0Oo**

_May 2nd, 2006_

His hand feels even colder now, so she straightens to her knees, legs numb from disuse.

She turns, and pressing a kiss to her hand, reaches to land it in his silky, white blonde hair.

She stands up.

Whatever feelings they may have felt, past or present. Whatever moments and understandings may have passed between them, then or now.

She leaves it behind. All of it. So she can forget, and he can finally rest.

"Sleep well, Draco."

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_Thanks for reading! Did you see what I meant in the intro? (ahEm marvel) Yah? Alright cool, moving on._

_Idk HP characters too well but I tried, so please do forgive me for any mistakes or mischaracterization on my part._

_Again, thank for you stopping by and please drop a review, they are very highly appreciated and help me grow and develop as an author :)_


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